


As epistolary novels go

by yellow_owl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AwaketheSnake, M/M, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_owl/pseuds/yellow_owl
Summary: Crowley spends two months sleeping, Aziraphale takes to writing to him to keep the conversation going.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	As epistolary novels go

**1 May 2020**  
Crowley hang up and stared at his phone. Did Aziraphale just call him up to check that he was making mischief and then imply the invitation to his bookshop? Yes, yes, he did, the fluffy bastard was at his game again: suggesting an idea and then waiting for Crowley to pick up on it, making it all seem as if Aziraphale had nothing to do with it. Well, this time Crowley was having none of it, he was either getting a direct invitation to come over, or having a good long sleep at his place. As disappointing as the conversation turned out to be, Aziraphale (who called first, mind you!) would come round eventually, and a good long nap never harmed nobody.

Crowley aimlessly wandered around his apartment, watered the plants, imprinting on them how a two month stretch without watering and supervision was NOT an excuse for a lowered performance, and finally settled in bed. He figured he'd play a bit on his phone and call it a night. 

At 10pm precisely a cup of hot cocoa and a plate of biscuits materialised on his nightstand with a soft pop. A note in Aziraphale's neat handwriting landed beside them:  
«Good night, Crowley.  
Sleep well and dream of whatever you like best.  
Yours,  
Aziraphale  
P.S.: Perhaps we could go for that picnic when you wake up?»

\- Hah! A peace offering then. You insufferable bastard… Whatever I like best indeed…

Crowley finished the cocoa and nibbled on the biscuits, they were in fact very good. Finally, he set the alarm clock for the 1st of July, 12pm precisely, and settled against the pillows. As he closed his eyes one big red apple and a note in squiggly handwriting landed on Aziraphale's desk.  
«Eat some fruit Angel, it's good for you. Goes well in picnic baskets too.  
X  
Crowley»

**1 July 2020**  
Crowley always liked a good nap, not only because it offered a chance to switch off from the busy reality, but also because of how nice it felt to fall asleep and especially to wake up. His alarm clock, knowning what's best for itself started gently vibrating. It figured a while ago that sound was not actually the best way to wake Crowley up, but vibrations appealed to his snake part and did a good job in ensuring a pleasant awakening. Crowley switched it off and started stretching his limbs one by one. Important things, limbs, very useful, shouldn't forget to activate all of them… as he turned his head towards the nightstand to give his neck a good stretch too, a neat pile of letters came into view. They were definitely not there when he fell asleep two months ago.

Crowley set up against the headboard and gingerly picked up the topmost letter: expensive stationery, neat handwriting and an elaborate seal on green wax all pointed to the only person who could have sent this (not that pointers were needed, Aziraphale was pretty much the only one who sent him letters). He opened the envelope and read the note:

~5 May 2020~  
My dear Crowley,  
While you sleep, I thought I might write to you from time to time to compensate for the lack of conversation. I hope you do not mind these notes and have had a very resting sleep by the time you read this.  
Yours,  
Aziraphale.  
~

Crowley looked at the pile of envelopes and had a distinct feeling that he was about to read what is called an 'epistolary novel'. He knew Aziraphale was partial to this type of fiction, despite him actively denying the said fact (Crowley found the angel's secret book stash in that particular genre ages ago and noticed how especially well-used their spines were, and how well-stocked that section of the bookshop always seemed.) It was clear Aziraphale decided to ceise the oportunity to produce one of his own. He piled a couple more pillows behind himself and set out to read the notes.

~8 May 2020~  
Hello Crowley,  
You must be deep asleep already, while I find myself wondering how your plants are doing and how they will survive your nap. You did not mention neededing help watering them, so I presume you made other arrangements. For the record, on future occasions I would be delighted to take care of them at any time.

Yours,  
Aziraphale  
~

~15 May 2020~  
Hello my dear boy,  
Yet another week of self-isolation has gone by. I have switched to baking savoury now. This week I have finally mastered that old Quiche recipe! You remember we had quiche in that lovely cafe in Lille back in 1815 and you persuaded them to share the recipe with me? It came out really well, I will make it again when you wake up, so you can try it and give me your honest opinion. Otherwise, not much news on my side, just progressing along my reading list, you know how it is.

Yours,  
Aziraphale  
~

~22 May 2020~  
Hello Crowley,  
It is yet again a Friday evening and I find myself a little out of sorts. Perhaps, the lockdown is starting to get to me after all. I have not seen a human up close since that incident with burglars and I must admit I miss the conversation. Not with the burglars, you understand, not even with humans in general (I would be lying if I said I miss the customers), I miss cinversation with you, most specifically.   
I do not think I ever said this to you before, not outright anyway, but I do enjoy your company, very much. I did not realise how very lucky I have been these past years, seeing you as often as I did and having a chance to dine and drink together whenever we wished, even despite the usual precautions.  
I am very much looking forward to our picknick when you wake up.  
Missing you,  
Aziraphale  
~

~29 May 2020~  
My dear Crowley,  
It is almost June, and I must say that I am glad for it, it seems that things are getting a little better in terms of the pandemic, but not really better in terms of how things are overall. We have seen protests, wars and revolutions, so it is nothing new, but it does not make it any easier to witness, does it?

It looks like yet another string has finally snapped. I do hope this is a start of a change for the better, but I am glad you are sleeping through this bit of it. I know how you dislike violence. I am saving notes of some good-natured chaos around the world for you, though, so that you can enjoy reading them when you wake up. 

I so wish we could discuss all this in person, I hope we can do so soon.

Yours,  
Aziraphale  
~

~5 June 2020~  
My dear Crowley,

Yet another week has passed I have heard in the news today they are discussing relaxing the rules a bit, forming 'social bubbles' as they call it. A 'social bubble' is several small households closely connected by social bonds, the idea is to allow people to meet up with close friends, especially if they live alone, for mutual suport and mental health reasons. 

I think it is safe to say you are truly the only person in my social bubble. Is it not silly, how it took a major pandemic event for me to be able to say this out loud, or as it were, in writing? Yet again, I find that I have to apologise to you for being so slow to acknowledge this, I should have really been braver…

Oh look at this, me getting all silly, you will probably read this and be annoyed at how sappy my writing got. Apologies for this, dear boy, I promise I will be better in person: in expressing myself and also in making it clear how important your friendship is to me. 

Missing you something terrible and starting to plan for our picknick,

Yours,  
Aziraphale.

~

~12 June 2020~  
My dear Crowley,

Another week, another letter to you. I have kept myself busy re-ordering the additions that Adam made and even reading through a few of them. I must admit, some are very gripping and I am grateful for him adding them to my collection. As you know, they are all first editions, so a good investment for the future, I am sure.

This made me think of how events and people in our lives curate what happens to is, what we come across and notice. I habe now ckme to the cinclusion that I should finally show you a little secret stash of books I kept for a special reason, I expect you'd be both amused and exasperated by my choices and my reasons for making them. I can't wait to see your reaction to it!

It is almost the middle of June, not long to wait now!

Yours,  
Aziraphale  
~

~21/22 June 2020~  
My dearest Crowley,

The solstice came and went, so I have spent the longest day of the year reading and thinking of what we should do next year, circumstances permitting, on that day. You know, I realised I quite fancy joining in the crowd and spending the night among those ancient stones. Ancient relics like us belong together. We might even do the old silly abandoning of the shape and sizes, go really small and sit on top of one of those arches…

Oh, I should let you know that your absence is not doing me good: drinking alone is not fun, yet today I couldn't help it. It is such a nice evening and it has been such a long day, and I thought if I don't have you here to share ot with me, I moght drink and write this and it would be as if we are sharing a bottle or two (or five? Or is it seven now?) and talking.

So yes, where was I? Ah, Stonehenge… Imagine sunset, sitting on top of one of those stone arches, perhaps we come on the day just after the Summer Solstice, or just on any other day when it is deserted and have it all to ourselves. When was the last time we watched the sunset? It must have been just after that fateful, frightening day of Apocawasn't as you call it. This would not do, we should have another go at watching the sunset together. Let our wings out, pour some wine… The sun would go down and paint everything red and orange, like your hair! And the orange will catch in your wings too (and they are beautiful, your wings, they truly are!). And maybe mine will go a bit orange-pink too, the sunset will colour us together.

This is the wine-talking, I know, but I believe I am allowed to be sappy sometimes. I am an angel, after all, I am made to love! You know what, in fact I think it is wrong for angels to claim they are the only beings made to love. Everyone is made to love, otherwise they would not be capable of that feeling. Love is not a task, or a chore, it is a choice! So does that mean that when you gave humans free will, you also enabled them to choose love? Oh, I can see your eyebrows raising when you read this, but fear not, once you are awake again, we will get throuoghly inebriated together and discuss it properly! That's our next profound discussion topic (oh, how I miss our profound discussions!)

The other day I did something that I feel would make you proud. I was thinking of all those times you brought chaos to the world, and about what we did with the arrangement, and what you might do had you been awake now. And I thought, well, why don't I do something? You know, I have always been in awe of how imaginative your plans are. You know,the bigger ones, the really inspired ones with a proper vision. Remember how you rehearsed the M25 presentation with me? It was impressive, and you were so proud of it, I did not have the heart to thwart you, you old snake! And how you helped me with that blasted millenial assignement – they still hail Wikipedia as one of the greatest achievements (which it is)! So yes I might have sent some divine inspiration to some activists, but because I was thinking of you (when am I not thinking of you?) it turned out to be one of the most beautiful chaos disruptions of wrongness in the world I have ever seen! I mean, of course it was all done by humans, but I am terribly proud of what my littke nudge achieved. I have saved the news clippings in my word file and will show you once you wake up!

Do you know how often I look at the calendar these days? I am almost tempted to cross out the remaining days till July. And you did not even say when in July you are planning to wake up. Far be it from me to disturb you, I have brought you enough pain and inconvenience as it is, but I just hope it will be soon. The humans are on to something with all this 'social bubble' talk, and without you I have no bubble. It is lonely, Crowley, and this loneliness is starting to suffocate me. 

Please wake up soon.  
Please?  
I miss you so much.

Forever yours, if you'll have me,  
X  
Aziraphale  
~~

Crowley reread the letter twice. He even pinched himself to see of he was still dreaming, but no, the letter was real, and the text in it was real, all be it awkwardly slanted and smudged in places, especially towards the end.

Just three more letters remained on his night stand. He'd better finish reading them and fast.

~~

~23 June 2020~  
Dear Crowley,

Please forgive my drunken ramblings in the last letter. I even tried to retrieve it back, but it refused to leave your nightstand.  
I do not regret saying the things I said in that letter, I only wish I could say some of them to your face first. You deserve so much better then a drunken letter.

So let me at least tell you, in sober mind:  
I MISS YOU  
I WAS WRONG TO TURN DOWN YOUR SUGGESTON TO COME OVER  
And that I am indeed forever yours.

Please wake up soon,  
Aziraphale

~

~26 June 2020~  
My dearest Crowley,

Just five more days and it will be July.  
I promised myself to not drink anything stronger then cocoa since the last incident, but I have indeed started preparing our little picknick basket: some white wine, apples, and pears and some other things…

Yours,  
Aziraphale  
~

~30 June 2020~  
My dearest Crowley,

I am writing this as the month of June is coming to an end. It went both fast and too slow (does that even make sense?!), and I am hoping that you wake up soon.

Please call me when you do. Or just come over.  
Slither over to watch me eat cake,  
Come and share my wine with me (or bring yours, whatever you want).  
YOU ARE ALWAYS WELCOME, my door is never closed for you (it has not been for centuries, and it will never be, I promise you that.)

Please wake up, I miss you so much.

Yours,  
Aziraphale

~~~

\- Hello Angel, how have you been? – Crowley swaggered into the bookshop not bothering to hide his smile.

Whirlwind of tartan and white feathers enveloped him, and Crowley found himslef in a tight hug.  
\- Hello, you old romantic.  
\- Hello, my dear.  
\- Loved your letters, but I am never going to publish them. Not even under a pen name, they are mine and mine alone.  
\- What..?  
\- You'll have me, though, forever and ever. How's that for an exchange?  
\- Sounds fair to me. Now, shall I show you my news clippings? I think you'd rather like them.


End file.
